Page 4

I sat with my back against the wall, staring at the floor, frozen in time. It could have been minutes, or maybe even hours; I couldn’t care to count down the seconds because even breathing was a concentrated effort to avoid falling apart.

It was dark in the basement cell that felt more like a dungeon. Not that I’d ever seen a dungeon, but then again, I’d never seen a prison cell before, either.

The precariousness of my situation wasn’t lost on me. I had been taken from the middle of a busy street and brought to what was clearly a madman’s house, and no one knew where I was. My vision tunneled in on a mark on the floor as I tried to note its pattern and color, imagining how it had gotten there. This focus was to keep me sane; if I didn’t do that, the nervous pain crushing my chest would have escalated into a full-fledged panic attack.

I named five things in the cell and took some breaths. I tried to note five sounds. I heard the buzz from a flickering lone bulb somewhere in the distance, the sound of an overhead fan, and that was that. No other noises, no voices, no footsteps overhead.

It was utterly lonely.

I couldn’t name five sounds, and the panic from that revelation reached for my fingers, causing them to tingle. I stood, finding I might be going insane, and shook my legs and hands to rid myself of the wretched sensation of pins and needles.

Sitting there wasn’t helping in any way whatsoever. If I wanted out, I’d have to fight for it, and while doing so, it was important for me to keep my wits around.

I had already tried to scream and yell, even after my captor had left. I had pounded against the metal bars, pulled and clanged them hard enough to know the sound must have reached upstairs, and yet no one paid me any heed. I had mapped my hands inch by inch across the cement walls, feeling for a crack, a concealed door, something, anything but found nothing. I had then looked upward, hoping to find an exhaust or a vent to crack open and crawl out from, but the walls gave no hope for escape. There wasn’t even a window in sight, let alone a vent.

I walked through my small cell once more and reached the same conclusion. There were no exits. Frustrated, I decided to try something different. I was about to remove the sheets from my bed, which was more than necessary for what was essentially a camping cot, when I heard the basement door open.

Plans abandoned, I rushed to the bars and clung to them, peering out toward the stairs to see who was coming. Maybe I could find a way out through the power of persuasion.

A guard walked up to my cell with a tray in his hand. I stepped aside with a racing heart to stand behind where he would open the door to my cell. He would have to open the door to give me my food, wouldn’t he? And when he did, I could push past him and escape, locking him up in here instead.

But to my shock, he accessed a food slot, the smallest bars popping open to create enough space near the floor for him to bend down and slide the tray over to me. I watched, harrowed and disappointed, as the doors to my cell never opened.

“Eat,” he said in a robotic, monotone voice and began to walk away.

“No, please,” I begged, grabbing the cells. “Listen. Just…listen.”

He paused momentarily, but never turned to face me. This was my chance, I knew, to have a chance at freedom.

“I’ve been taken for something I never did,” I tried to coax him. “I don’t belong here.”

I saw his spine straighten, but he never turned to face me. He took one step forward.

“My brothers,” I said, with more urgency now. “They’ll do anything to have me by their side. Anything. You’d be handsomely paid for returning me to them. Please, take me to them.”

With bated breath, I waited for his response, my heart thudding in my chest as the silence stretched between us. But just as I was about to speak again, the guard stiffened and turned to me.

“Eat,” he said, one more time, shaking his head to my request, before he turned back and retreated up those steps again.

I pressed myself against the wall and fell to the ground, curling my arms around my stomach. For the first time in hours, I cried. The crying lulled me into a calm that once again brought me courage.

After half an hour or so, I got off the floor and walked over the plate of food. In a fit of rage, I kicked it away, watching as the food splattered all over the place.

There’s no way in hell I was eating a thing they gave me. For all I knew, it could have been poisoned. Besides, I thought to myself, someone would have to clean this mess up, and when they came to do that, I’d try to make a run for it.

But, until then, I didn’t stop fighting. I had tried almost every avenue for escape and would continue to do so. Any guard that came, I’d plead for their help. Any food that came, I would avoid. In the meantime, I had to keep trying.

Out of ideas, I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, and then, there, I felt it. The pins in my hair I’d forgotten about.

An idea dawned.

I quickly pulled out a small bobby pin and carefully inspected it in my hand. This small, seemingly insignificant object was now my only hope.

I had never been in such a situation before, but remembered watching a TV show once where a prisoner escaped by picking a lock. Not that I knew how to do that, but I prayed and hoped I could figure it out.

With trembling fingers, I straightened out the pin and started to work on the lock of the cell door. Tens of minutes passed in a blur as I tried to break past the mechanism, but nothing worked and at last impatience took over. With desperate fury to get out, I jammed the pin a little too hard. To my horror, the pin broke off in the lock.

“Shit,” I cursed, and quickly extracted the stuck bit. I had lost a pin and was nowhere closer to escaping.

I went back and slumped down onto the thin mattress, fighting back tears of frustration. There was nothing else I could do. I had tried everything but clearly had no useful skills to help me out of such a situation. I felt angry at the world, at my brothers who spent a lifetime protecting me, but never taught me how to save myself.

***

I woke up the next morning to the sound of the food slot opening. I sprang out of bed, to my feet, adrenaline rushing through my veins.

I walked over to the tray, where it had been put, and dropped the contents on the floor.

The guard glanced at the food, then at me, eyes narrowing.

“Not hungry?”

“I don't eat poison,” I spat.

He shrugged, before walking off. “Starve then. Boss says to feed you, not make you eat.”

Before he could turn to leave, I angled the tray in my hands to slip out through the bars. If I could knock him out by the cell, perhaps I could reach over and grab his keys.

To my shock, he dodged with practiced ease, grabbed my wrist, and twisted until I dropped the tray with a clatter.

“Nice try, princess,” he said with a whistle. “I’ll make sure to tell the kitchen you’re to not have a tray, or any cutlery starting tomorrow.”

And then, he walked out with his hands in his pockets. His pockets.

And I was out of any and all ideas.

I screamed in frustration, kicking the wall until my foot throbbed. The water they'd left remained untouched as well. Thirst clawed at my throat, but paranoia kept me from drinking. For all I knew, they'd drugged it to make me compliant for... whatever they had planned.

***

Hours passed in miserable monotony. I had no sense of time and tried to sleep, but my churning mind conspired against rest, and for all I knew, it might still have been daylight outside. Instead, I returned to examining the door lock and then squatted down to see if I could break through the food slot instead.

I was on my knees, hopelessly feeling the lock's exterior with another pin from my hair when I heard footsteps.

“Interesting approach,” my captor said as I looked up to see him appear into view, towering over me. “Though I've yet to meet anyone who can pick a prison-grade lock with a hairpin.”

I got to my feet and dusted the dirt off me. His eyes traveled the length of my cell before they met mine. Those same, piercing brown whiskey eyes.

“You could just let me go,” I suggested, affecting a casual tone I didn't feel. “Save us both the trouble.”

His lips quirked—not quite a smile, more like an acknowledgment of an amusing but futile effort. “I see you've been refusing meals.”

“I'm not stupid enough to eat something you've given me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, Larissa, I wouldn’t waste food in the process. The hunger strike is unnecessary. Drop the act.”

My temper flared. “Act? You kidnap me, throw me in this hole, and have the audacity to accuse me of acting?”

“You know what you did.” His voice remained level, conversational almost. “And I will get to the why. The innocent routine is wasted on me.”

“It’s not an act,” I protested, crossing my arms in front of me. “And you know what? You’ve given me so much time in here—”

“It’s been less than a day,” he clarified.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” I shot back, frowning in his direction. “No clocks. Not a window in sight. You’ve let me fester in here with lots of time to think, and I’m warning you now that when I get out, I’m going to make sure my brothers burn this place to hell, with you in it.”

“Your family sent you,” he stated as he ignored my empty threats, so confident that for a moment, I wondered if I was missing something. “You're their eyes and ears. Their little spy. I want the truth.”

“You're delusional,” I snapped, anger temporarily overwhelming fear. “I’ve always been protected. My brothers wouldn't use me for... whatever this conspiracy is in your head.”

He stepped closer to the bars, and the air between us seemed to crackle with tension. “They've trained you well. The wide-eyed innocence is almost convincing.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, my composure cracking. “I have nothing more to say to you. Why don’t you go back crawling to whatever part of hell you came from?”

For once, I spoke the truth. I didn’t wish to see his face for a moment longer and hoped my insults would be enough to make him go back up.

To my surprise, he broke into a half-grin, the kind that made me stop in my tracks. “Oh, sweetheart,” he growled in a low voice, stepping closer as he wrapped a hand around the bars, his face inches away from mine, rendering my heart to flutter from god knows what. “It won’t be me going to hell.”

His sudden proximity sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let it show. I squared my shoulders, meeting his intense gaze with defiance. “Are you threatening me?”

He cocked his head, and I watched his jaw clench. That perfect, sculpted jaw. What a waste of good looks, I thought to myself, on a man that evil.

“No,” he clicked his tongue at last. “I’m threatening your brothers for what they did to me. Your role is yet to be ascertained.”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” I said without thinking. “Make up stories in your head? Fall in love with a truth that doesn’t exist just to serve your agenda? This organization you’re so proud of—it’s going to fall into the hands of someone like you.”

Then, I saw it. The momentary lapse in his composure. I had struck a nerve, and I realized it. He was trying to prove something. To himself, or someone else, and I rode the coattails of this opportunity to be rid of him.

“That’s right,” I continued. “Just wait until everyone finds out you made a fool of yourself by kidnapping the wrong person. Wait until they all laugh themselves silly when they think of your name.”

That, I thought, was the final blow. I had made it perfectly clear that he’d get nothing more than an argument out of me, and I expected him to walk away.

Needless to say, I scrambled back as the door swung open, and he stepped inside, his presence too large for the cramped cell.

He stopped directly in front of me, so close I could smell his cologne. It made me all heady and shouldn't have been appealing in my current state, but somehow was.

With deliberate slowness, he pulled the door closed—and it automatically clicked shut from the inside.

With both of us trapped in the cell together.

My breath caught. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” He removed his suit jacket, folded it with meticulous care, and set it on the edge of my cot. His shirt, I noticed, clung to his frame like water, highlighting the planes across his broad chest and the hills of his muscular arms. I swallowed hard at the brute strength I knew he was capable of deploying.

He whispered, “We're going to have a long talk, you and I.”

I backed away until I hit the wall. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“There's everything to talk about.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. The casualness of the gesture felt somehow more threatening than overt aggression. “Starting with why the Ajello family planted their sister at my heels, coincidentally right after the attack on our operation.”

“I was out doing chores,” I insisted, hating the defensive note in my voice. “It's not my fault your 'business fronts' are nearby.”

“With Dom by your side?” He raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer, and I inched to the side, stepping away from him. He followed, a predator on a hunt.

“I told you. He’s my bodyguard. Now, if only you could stop asking the same questions over and over again.”

“I’ve done enough research on your family to know that Dom is a precious resource. Why waste him on you?”

I bristled at his tone and my voice came sharp. “My brothers love me,” I said defiantly. “To them, nothing matters more than my safety.”

“Of course,” he clicked his tongue as he drew closer, attempting to plant his arms on either side of me while I pressed my back against the wall. I bent and ducked underneath him, my heart racing as I fled to the opposite side of the room. He turned with a small smile.

“Of course they’d protect you. Their weapon.”

“Never,” I said, hoarsely, feeling tired of the chase. He walked toward me again, and we circled one another. “Like I told you a million times already, my brothers have never involved me in their business.”

He stalked toward me then, moving with the fluid grace of someone who knew exactly how dangerous they were. This time around, I was done running. The cell was only that big, and I was growing tired. I crossed my arms and walked back to my cot, sitting on the edge as I stared up at him.

He looked down at me, glowering.

“Let me explain something,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “Your brothers crossed some lines. I know you did, too.”

“I don’t even know your name,” I snarled in his direction.

He blinked momentarily, confusion spreading across his face.

“One hell of a spy I must have been, huh?” I said with growing confidence. “Spying on a man whose name I don’t even know?”

“Liar,” he growled, shaking his head as his fists clenched slowly, purposefully, by his side, right in my line of sight. He could have tried to intimidate me all he wanted, but it wouldn’t have worked. I was used to my brothers acting this way, and I’d grown a rather thick skin. But there was something about him…that still unnerved me. Something different.

“Think I’m lying all you want. Just make sure your brains don’t fall out from that thinking you’re so busy doing,” I snarled.

“ Everyone in your family is involved in the business.” He was close enough now that I had to crane my neck up to meet his gaze. “Some just pretend better than others.”

I wanted to push him away, to create space between us, but instinct told me touching him would be a mistake. “My brothers protect me from that world.”

“Do they?” His whiskey-colored eyes studied me with unsettling intensity. “Or do they use your apparent innocence as a weapon?”

The accusation stung because it touched on a familiar insecurity—that my brothers saw me as nothing more than a liability, a possession to be sheltered and controlled. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that.

“You don't know my family,” I said coldly. “And you certainly don't know me.”

“Then enlighten me, Larissa.” My name in his mouth sounded sweet, like nectar I shouldn’t touch. “Tell me what I've misunderstood.”

I lifted my chin. “Release me, and I'll have my brothers explain it to you. Probably with bullets.”

His laugh wasn't amused but appreciative, as if he liked it when I played clever. “I've met women from families like yours before. Trained from birth to appear harmless while being anything but.”

“Is that what happened?” I couldn't resist asking. “Some Mafia princess broke your heart?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes, and he stepped closer, but then realized just how close he was, his hips inches away from my face. My heart raced as I looked up and saw his throat bob. And then, he stepped back, as though he hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. Good.

“I'm not leaving until you drop the act,” he said, ignoring my question. “Tell me what your brothers are planning, and this can end today.”

“You can stay here all night, and I won’t say a word.”

“Maybe I will.”

I watched in shock as he proceeded to do just that. Hours passed in tense silence. He sat down against the wall opposite my cot and watched me with unnerving patience.

We remained locked in our stubborn standoff. I sat with my back against the backrest and watched him right back, refusing to let him know how unnerved I was. My legs ached from the hardness of the mattress. My stomach growled audibly. Thirst made my tongue feel swollen.

As if reading my mind, he stood and picked up the untouched water bottle and broke the seal. He took a small sip, then offered it to me. “See? Not poisoned.”

My throat constricted with need, but I shook my head. He sighed and shrugged, before settling back against the wall.

“My name’s Gio. Giovanni,” he said after another hour of silence.

His name. He offered me his name. Why? Our eyes met, and I gave the briefest nod, acknowledging the kindness, though did not question it further.

But he ruined it when he said. “You knew that, though, didn’t you? It had to be a lie when you said you didn’t know my name.”

I rolled my eyes and looked away, not dignifying his words with a response. When I caught his eye again, I thought I caught him half-smiling.

The silence stretched between us, thick with hostility. But also, a current of awareness that made the small cell feel even more confining. When my brothers tried to intimidate me, it never felt like this. This was different. Charged. Dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with the threat of physical harm.

My eyelids grew heavy as exhaustion overtook adrenaline. I fought it, pinching my arm, blinking away the sleep. I wouldn't sleep with him here.

He noticed my struggle. “Stubbornness won't change your situation.”

“Neither will cooperation, I suspect,” I muttered.

Another hour passed. My body betrayed me with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I'll still be here when you wake.”

That was precisely what I feared. I didn’t respond and tried to stay awake.

My head nodded, jerking up again as I caught myself drifting. Maybe if I lay down, I could stay awake, but it could help with the fatigue. I stretched out on the thin mattress, my body betraying me with relief at finally lying down. I told myself I would just rest my eyes for a moment. Just a moment...

I woke to absolute darkness. The soft lightbulb that had tormented me with its constant flickering was off, plunging the cell into a blackness so complete I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Panic seized my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs, and I sat up in bed.

“Hello?” My voice emerged as a frightened whisper.

“I'm still here.” Giovanni's voice came from somewhere to my right, steady and calm.

I hated that his presence reassured me. “The light—”

“Power fluctuation. It happens in basements this old.”

I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest, trying to control my breathing. In the darkness, memories crowded close—memories I never wanted.

“You're afraid.” It wasn't a question.

“I'm not.” The denial was automatic, but my voice shook, betraying me.

I heard him move, felt the cot dip as he sat beside me. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel his body heat.

“Everyone fears something,” he said quietly.

“I said I’m not afraid,” I said, moving to the other edge of the bed, away from him.

“Right,” he said, in a tone that told me he thought otherwise.